glasses and cups are broken, and utensils displaced, and all these faults laid upon Mrs. How-d'ye-call; that your petitioner has applied to counsel, upon these grievances; that your petitioner is advised, that her case is the same with that of John-a-Styles, and that she is abused only by way of form; your petitioner therefore most humbly prays, that in behalf of herself, and all others defamed under the term of Mr. or Mrs. How-d'ye-call, you will grant her and them the following concessions; that no reproach shall take place where the person has not an opportunity of defending himself; that the phrase of a certain person' means no certain person :' that the How-d'ye-calls,' tain set of men,' there are folks now-a-days,' and 'things are come to that pass,' are words that shall concern nobody' after the present Monday in Whitsun-week, 1713.

6

6

6

some people,'

6

a cer

That it is baseness to offend any person, except the offender exposes himself to that person's examination; that no woman is defamed by any man, without be names her name; that' exasperated mistress,' false fair,' and the like, shall from the same Whitsun-Monday, signify no more than Cloe, Corinna, or Mrs. How-d'ye-call; that your petitioner, being an old maid, may be joined in marriage to John-a-Nokes, or, in case of his being resolved upon celibacy, to Tom Long the carrier, and your petitioner shall ever pray, &c.'

TO NESTOR IRONSIDE, ESQ.

The humble petition of Hugh Pounce, of Grubstreet, sheweth,

THAT in your first paper you have touched upon the affinity between all arts which concern the

good of society, and professed that you should promote a good understanding between them.

That your petitioner is skilful in the art and mystery of writing verses or distichs.

That your petitioner does not write for vainglory, but for the use of society.

That, like the art of painting upon glass,* the more durable work of writing upon iron is almost lost.

That your petitioner is retained as poet to the Ironmongers company.

Your petitioner therefore humbly desires you would protect him in the sole making of posies for knives, and all manner of learning to be wrought on iron, and your petitioner shall ever pray.'

SIR,

TO THE GUARDIAN.

THOUGH every body has been talking of writing on the subject of Cato, ever since the world was obliged with that tragedy, there has not, methinks, been an examination of it, which sufficiently shows the skill of the author merely as a poet. There are peculiar graces which ordinary readers ought to be instructed how to admire ; among others, I am charmed with his artificial expressions in well adapted similies: there is no part of writing in which it is more difficult to succeed, for on sublime occasions it requires at once the utmost strength of the imagination, and the severest correction of the judgment. Thus Syphax, when he is forming to himself the sudden and unexpected destruction which is to befal the man he hates,

* The art of painting on glass was never lost. See Walpole's Anecdotes of Painting, &c. vol. ii. p. 26. et seq.

expresses himself in an image which none but a Numidian could have a lively sense of; but yet, if the author had ranged over all the objects upon the face of the earth, he could not have found a representation of a disaster so great, so sudden, and so dreadful as this;

So where our wide Numidian wastes extend,
Sudden th' impetuous hurricanes descend,
Wheel through the air, in circling eddies play,
Tear up the sands, and sweep whole plains away,
The helpless traveller, with wild surprise,

Sees the dry desert all around him rise,

And smother'd in the dusty whirlwind, dies.'

When Sempronius promises himself the possession of Marcia by a rape, he triumphs in the prospect, and exults in his villainy, by representing it to himself in a manner wonderfully suited to the vanity and impiety of his character.

'So Pluto, seiz'd of Proserpine, convey'd
To hell's tremendous gloom th' affrighted maid;
There grimly smil'd, pleas'd with the beauteous prize,
Nor envy'd Jove his sunshine and his skies.

Pray old Nestor, trouble thyself no more with the squabbles of old lovers; tell them from me, now they are past the sins of the flesh, they are got into those of the spirit; Desire hurts the soul less than Malice; it is not now, as when they were Sappho and Phaon. I am, Sir,

Your affectionate humble servant,

A. B.

N° 65. TUESDAY, MAY 26, 1713.

Inter scabiem tantam et contagia.

HOR. 1 Ep. xii. 13.

Amidst the poison of such infectious times.

THERE is not any where, I believe, so much talk about religion, as among us in England; nor do I think it possible for the wit of man to devise forms to address to the Almighty, in more ardent and forcible terms than are every where to be found in our book of common prayer; and yet I have heard it read with such negligence, affectation and impatience, that the efficacy of it has been apparently lost to all the congregation. For my part, I make no scruple to own it, that I go sometimes to a particular place in the city, far distant from my own home, to hear a gentleman, whose manner I admire, read the liturgy. I am persuaded devotion is the greatest pleasure of his soul, and there is none hears him read without the utmost reverence. I have seen the young people, who have been interchanging glances of passion to each other's persons, checked into an attention to the service at the interruption which the authority of his voice has given them. But the other morning I happened to rise earlier than ordinary, and thought I could not pass my time better, than to go upon the admonition of the morning bell, to the church prayers at six of the clock. I was there the first of any in the congregation, and had the

opportunity, however I made use of it, to look back on all my life, and contemplate the blessing and advantage of such stated early hours for offering ourselves to our Creator, and prepossessing ourselves with the love of Him, and the hopes we have from Him, against the snares of business and pleasure in the ensuing day. But whether it be that people think fit to indulge their own ease in some secret, pleasing fault, or whatever it was, there was none* at the confession but a set of poor scrubs of us, who could sin only in our wills, whose persons could be no temptation to one another, and might have, without interruption from any body else, humble, lowly hearts, in frightful looks and dirty dresses, at our leisure. When we poor souls had presented ourselves with a contrition suitable to our worthlessness, some pretty young ladies in mobs, popped in here and there about the church, clattering the pew-door after them, and squatting into a whisper behind their fans. Among others, one of lady Lizard's daughters, and her hopeful maid, made their entrance: the young lady did not omit the ardent form behind the fan, while the maid immediately gaped round her to look for some other devout person, whom I saw at a distance very well dressed; his air and habit a little military, but in the pertness, not the true possession, of the martial character. This jackanapes was fixed at the end of a pew, with the utmost impudence, declaring, by a fixed eye on that seat (where our beauty was placed) the object of his devotion. This obscene sight gave me all the indignation imaginable, and I could attend to nothing but the reflection that the greatest affronts imaginable are

* Contr. for no one.